


If I Were a Bird

by Anjelle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Character Study, Gen, Role Reversal, Storm - Freeform, pirate!Koala, revolutionary!Killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle
Summary: Koala never thought she'd end up a pirate. But life on the Grandline has a funny way of being just as unpredictable as the cursed sea's weather-weather that led to out-of-nowhere storms fierce enough to sink ships. She is fortunate to find her way to an island after one such storm, but soon comes to find her fate is shared with Killer of the revolutionaries.





	

Koala sighed, staring down the deck of the ship to her captain standing at the bow, one arm on his brother's shoulder as he laughed something away, much to the other's annoyance. She shook her head and slipped into the cabin, deciding not to grace his presence with much thought. It wasn't that she was particularly annoyed by him—not _now_ , at least—but his easygoing nature had been irking her ever since Ace's arrival. Ordinarily the captain could be reckless and cocky, but his brother's visitation only saw instances of that behaviour skyrocketing. It was, of course, left up to Koala to try to rein him in even as he ignored her every attempt when faced with his brother.

She supposed it had something to do with pride, or more so admiration; Ace had set out as a young boy and Sabo, well… Sabo had stayed with Luffy, there on that island. He had a lot of catching up to do, and seeing the larger-than-life figure of Firefist Ace right there before his eyes… It was probably a lot. She wouldn't pretend to understand how that felt.

Still, no excuses. His careless attitude would one day be the death of them.

Being First Mate was tough.

The door slid closed with a small thud and she hefted a sigh. Light filtered in through the cabin window, coming to rest on the maps splayed across the wall, illuminating the various islands of the Grandline. She leaned back against the door, staring them over with tired eyes. Navigating the Grandline had proven a more difficult task than she first anticipated; she could no longer trust her compass, now relying on the courses set by the log pose strapped around her wrist if she hoped to get them _anywhere_. The only way she could tell north from south was by using the position of the sun, and she still wasn't confident enough to direct their ship freely as opposed to using the log pose. She didn't think she ever would be.

But then Ace had arrived, travelling alone on a tiny little skiff without a care. How a devil fruit user was able to traverse a sea as violent and unpredictable as the Grandline, she hadn't a clue. But Sabo had been impressed— _more_ than impressed—and she feared soon that standard would fall on her shoulders. Because if Ace could do it, so could the navigator, right?

_Show off._

Koala let out another heavy breath as she lowered herself onto the wooden chair of her desk, staring blankly at the sextant she'd brought from home. It was a lovely send-off from her mother, but it was of little help when the fogs and sudden storms often left her unable to use it to navigate. And, well, she doubted her mother would have bought it had it been known that Koala would soon take on the role of wanted pirate.

Her tools were still splayed out across the surface from her earlier attempt at plotting the next course, everything from chart protractors to parallel rulers. Sabo may have been content just going with the flow and hopping from island to island, but she wasn't. She'd figure this out, and perhaps Ace's showing off only fuelled that determination.

She wanted to be useful.

But for the night she needed rest. She let out a groan and slouched against the chair, reading the paper the news coo had dropped on deck the previous night. She'd read, if she hadn't already binged the ship's entire selection of books. With nothing better to distract herself with, she opened to a random page, reading about how a large number of marines were arrested for abusing the people of the island they were assigned to. The operation was brought to light when a band of only two pirates defeated and even killed many of the officers involved, and the source of the incident was still pending investigation. She could only shake her head, surprised the government even allowed an article like that to be printed.

She closed the paper and her eyes caught on the front page, staring at the bold, black ink emblazoned across the dull grey backdrop.

_CASUALTIES IN THE HUNDREDS AFTER RECENT REVOLUTIONARY ATTACK._

Koala's lip curled, eyes scrolling down to the large black and white photo beneath, depicting angry flames as they lashed out across houses and fields.

"I understand there's a problem with the current government," a voice called and she jolted out of her thoughts, an arm coming to rest heavily on her shoulder, "but I can't stomach how they use their cause to justify behaviour like this."

Koala looked up, large eyes staring up at the blond curls of her captain's hair. When had he gotten there? "So says the pirate."

Sabo chuckled, shifting to use her head as an armrest, much to her annoyance. "It's pretty bad when a pirate thinks you're too violent. Anyway, I wouldn't put too much stock in what they're doing here. They'll never get anywhere like this; no one will take them seriously. They're just bullying the people they claim they're out to protect."

She raised an eyebrow, staring up at him as best she could despite the heavy weight pressing down on her head. "Awfully insightful for a wanted criminal. Maybe you want to take up the revolutionary mantel?"

Sabo snorted and shook his head as he straightened his back and stretched. A yawn soon followed, and he leaned against the wall, mindful of the maps. "I'll agree with the cause, but I don't have half the motivation to follow through with it. I'm happy where I am."

"Happy or content?"

"There's a difference?"

Koala rolled her eyes and twisted to face forward, staring out the window that led to the deck, past to the sky. A shelf was forming off in the distance. She watched as the murky greys rolled over the previous blue skies, now colourless and dead as the shelf fast approached, and her stomach dropped. "Are you— _bloody brilliant_."

"What?" Sabo followed her eyes and tilted his head. "Huh. Well, that's a thing."

"Damn it, 'Bo—that's a _storm_ headed our way!"

"Well, yeah. I figured."

She let out an exasperated groan and shot up from her seat, flinging open the cabin door as she shouted for her crewmates to tie everything down. Just ten minutes earlier it had been blue skies and calm seas, and now they were on high alert as they prepared to brave the storm. Already winds picked up, swooping down through the sails and causing the boat's speed to pick up. "I hate this fucking sea!"

Had Hack been there, she would have been greeted by a sympathetic look. Currently he was off to Fishman Island, visiting his home. It was times like those that she missed him the most; he was always there when someone fell overboard. That was the last thing they needed right now.

Ten minutes into the storm and the waves were thrashing against the ship, causing them to sway and rock. The rain came next, thunder deafening the waters as the sky lit up in striking whites, the only thing upsetting the blackened world the clouds had brought them. But this was the Grandline, and true to form it was as unpredictable as the stories said. Rain turned to sleet and sleet brought with it cold and soon the air was frigid. Sleet to ice and they were all wincing, the small but hard pellets beating down on them with all the strength of the wind. She was cold, so were they, and the violent waves continued undisturbed.

Koala closed her eyes as the frozen droplets grew in size, her arms cradling her head as she stumbled back. The winds were strong, pushing her against the rail. She tried to squint one of her eyes open, to see how her crew was fairing—and she caught the moment Ace's narcolepsy hit, the moment the torrential downpour caused the mast to crack, and watched as he was sent over the edge.

Into the sea.

A devil fruit user.

Immediately she ran but her hand missed his and she watched him fall—if only Hack was here, if only they had another fishman onboard, if only—

She knew she wouldn't make it back as she dove over the edge, and she was sure she could hear Sabo call after her before she was hit with instant cold.

Disoriented and shivering she tried to regain her bearings, and soon the glint of a beaded necklace caught her eye. He was close to the surface—closer than her, she soon realised, as she tried to reach out to him. The undertow was strong, though, and she could feel herself being pulled deeper. The more she fought it the more she was dragged down, the more she flailed, and the further the illumination of the surface got.

She found herself thinking, 'This is it, isn't it?'

When she next opened her eyes she found herself resting half atop a piece of broken driftwood, clinging to it in her exhaustion. She couldn't recall how she'd found her way to the surface but didn't question it as she climbed further onto the wood, trying to get more of her body out of the icy waters. No, not driftwood—wreckage. From the ship. A mast, and further out she spotted what could have been a piece of the cabin roof. That storm had done a number… She wondered if they'd managed to recover Ace in all that carnage.

Carnage…

It was then that she looked around. Blue skies. Calm waters. How long had her blackout lasted? With the Grandline being the way that it was, it was hard to tell. She wasn't surprised when a glance around showed no ships on the horizon; there was no telling where the current brought her.

To an island, apparently.

It was still far off, and a part of her wondered if she would eventually drift closer. Swimming… would have been a futile effort, she'd determined. And there was no telling what kind of creatures lurked beneath her. More than sea kings graced those waters.

Another part of her was more concerned with what she'd do when she got there, and how her crew was fairing. Sabo would be fine; she was sure of that. But with one of their masts gone and their navigator no longer onboard, how long could they last? They should have another log pose to use… hopefully they could make it to port to get repairs done. But even then, how would she contact them? Her baby den den was in the cabin, which was now apparently roofless.

Koala's thoughts kept her occupied in the undetermined amount of time it took for her to get close enough to the island to swim ashore. In all honesty she was sure she'd be pulled out further… thankfully that wasn't the case. The instant she dropped onto the sandy beach she breathed relief, shivering and tired and awaiting the warmth of the sun's heat, content lying there as slowly her skin dried and the chill lifted from her body. And finally, when she caught her breath, "I _hate_ this fucking sea…"

It was a long while before she mustered up the energy to rise, her growling stomach her main motivation as day passed into evening, and she turned to look at the dense forestry behind her. Somehow she doubted she'd find a town through there. From a distance she could tell just how small the island was… It was doubtful anyone lived there.

She was on her own, with her thoughts.

No use dwelling on what can't be changed.

She began traversing the perimeter of the island, preferring to get her bearings before she chanced getting lost within the trees. The sky had morphed from blue to fiery orange, the sun barely peeking over the sea, and it was only as everything darkened into dusk that she noticed the small flicker of a light on the beach ahead. Her eyes widened, her steps quickened into a jog, and the moment she made out a campfire her shoulders slumped in relief. That fire most obviously belonged to someone but Koala couldn't be bothered to care as she plopped herself down in front of it and held up her hands to catch the radiating heat. It was warm and soothing, a welcomed change to the unforgiving cold of the ocean, and the wafting scent of cooking fish was by no means a deterrent.

The footsteps approaching her side did little to bring her from her bliss until they stopped just by her, at the fire. She opened her eyes and stared up at the large figure looming above, bundles of dry sticks gathered in his arms. His identity was shielded behind a full-headed helmet covered in holes, resting over his face. Wild, blond hair fell to his thighs, and bladed handguards nagged at the back of Koala's mind. She knew them from somewhere…

They exchanged stares before he wordlessly sat down adjacent to her, dropping the sticks into a pile. He gave her no further interest, removing the handguards and mimicking Koala as he held his hands up to the open flames, ridding himself of the night's chills. He never glanced over, never gave her any mind, and as awkward as it was Koala was tempted to just… go with it.

The man prodded the fish and she watched absently, hunger reminding her of her exhaustion. Between them no sounds were made save the crackle of the fire and the roar of the waves just beyond the sands. Wind, too, periodically.

She only looked at the man when she found one of the fish held up to her, reluctantly accepting the offer. "...Thanks."

He didn't respond and she was almost glad. Appearance-wise he was… _intimidating_ , and she wondered what stories he had to tell, what he hid beneath that mask.

They ate. In relative silence, still, but it started to feel less tense. As Koala reached the end of her meal she started to steal glances, filled with intrigue and questions.

"Excuse me, but… do you know where we are?"

"The Grandline."

Her lips twitched, but she smoothed out her expression quickly. "Well, I know _that_."

"Then why ask?"

"Because—"

"We're on the Grandline," he murmured, and she only realised then that he hadn't touched his food. "Does where really matter?"

Koala eyed him before shifting awkwardly in the sand, dusting off her legs to try to alleviate the grainy texture stuck to her skin. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she felt like she _should know_. She wouldn't ask. "I fell overboard. In the storm."

There was nothing as the man turned the fish in his hand, watching it with little interest.

She continued, "I need to figure out where I am so I can find my way back to my crew… And you?"

"What about me?"

"What are you doing here?" When there was no immediate answer she found herself hesitating. "There's no one else, is there?"

The man's silence was all she needed in answer and she let out a shuddering breath, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly, mind adrift with thoughts of her crew and how they fared, if Ace was still alive. No… that wasn't right. She knew they would be okay. Sabo still retained some navigational knowledge from childhood, and the crew had experience with fishing devil fruit users out of deadly waters. She just… almost wished they wouldn't be.

She wished they needed her more than they really did.

"I'm waiting," finally came his reply, and she looked up to face him. "That's all."

"For… what?" she questioned, figuring another gentle prod wouldn't hurt. "Why wait here?"

"It's quiet. I like the quiet."

So then, did he choose to come to that island? The more she thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed for the both of them to have shipwrecked on the same island. Sure, there had been a violent storm that definitely could have caused multiple people to fall overboard, or even for ships to capsize. But a look around set in theory that this stranger had been there a while; he'd set up a makeshift camp all around the shore, with a tent pitched closer to the tree line. There was a bag resting a little ways away from the fire, practically bursting with supplies, and past Koala's envy lied suspicion. Why would that man come all the way to some random, uninhabited island? And if it was uninhabited there was a possibility that there would be no pull for a log pose.

So why was he there, on an island that couldn't be found?

When she looked back at him the fish was gone save the bones and she blinked. He ate it… and yet she never noticed him taking off his mask.

Koala watched as the man got up, throwing more wood on the fire. The sun had fully set now, and a vast expanse of stars decorated the sky. But she couldn't bring herself to care about that. Her mind was focused on the stranger's weapon of choice.

"You're not a pirate," she stated rather than asked, tilting her head as she thought. "But I'm thinking you're no adventurer, either."

"Then what am I?"

...Ah, right. The paper.

"Revolutionary."

His head lifted just slightly, just enough to spark the pirate's interest as he came to rest his arm on his knee, poking the fire with a stick. "You flatter me." Koala rolled her eyes at that one. "You, a pirate? Don't look the part."

"Why would you assume I'm a pirate?" Not that he was wrong.

"Why assume I'm with the revolution?"

She huffed, pointing an accusing finger at the bladed handguards resting in the sand. " _Those_! I recognise them. Killer, the Massacre Soldier." He was silent and she grinned. "I'm right, aren't I?"

There was no answer, not for a long, long time as the flickering lights of the fire danced along the man's mask. She focused intently on him, wondering what he was going to say, and if she could perhaps prod him for more information on just what the revolutionary army was thinking…

He stood, head turned towards the ocean, before he spun around and walked across the sand, disappearing into his tent. "Goodnight," he called from within, now completely out of sight.

Koala stared, jaw slack. He just— _escaped_. Just like that. And as she rubbed her temple and inched closer to the fire, her eyes fell to the unguarded pack of supplies. She could, once he fell asleep, but…

Well, she was a pirate. That was a part of the job description.

She instead waited out the night by the fire, cozying in on herself as she tried to fend off the encroaching cold and rest.

* * *

"I don't think you know what you're doing," Koala stated bluntly, perched atop a tree branch as she picked the fruit found amongst the leaves, tossing them down one by one to the man below. Each was caught without much effort, and she stared down at him dully. "Your organisation keeps spouting all this crap about change and how corrupt the government is, but you're going about dealing with it the wrong way. I get that you're trying to prove your point, but those were _innocent civilians_ you attacked."

"If I wanted your opinion I would have asked," Killer replied in his usual monotone, walking deeper into the dense shrubbery with the sack of food slung over his shoulder.

She huffed and slid down the branch, lagging behind with the hem of her shirt in her hands. She fiddled absently with the material, a force of habit that came with thought. "I'm just trying to understand. If you want to get people on your side, why attack them?"

"We're not."

"Not attacking them?"

"Not trying to get them on our side."

For a moment she stumbled over her own feet, gaping at Killer with a look of utter confusion as she tried desperately to figure out what was going on in that head of his. But as the distance between them grew she sighed and dropped the subject, despite the nagging questions at the back of her mind. The message the revolutionaries carried was one of justice, one that fought corruption and demanded change. But everything they did just didn't seem to align with that. Still, she knew it was none of her business and fought with herself to put it out of mind.

Killer was an enigma. He didn't question her constant presence—maybe he even enjoyed the company, being alone there until the previous night—and never warned her away. But she doubted he actually liked her, and she wasn't so sure she liked him… That didn't matter. What mattered was that they were there together and were making the most of it. And honestly… Koala was grateful for his presence. She didn't like being alone, like back then.

But while Killer seemed content just going about the day, Koala was _not_. Koala was getting off that island, one way or another. So after her first meal of the day she scooted away from camp, drawing in the sand with a stick as she tried to blueprint a raft. True, she'd never had to craft something like that. Her specialties were navigation and fishman karate, not construction. But when better to learn than when trapped on an island in need of rescue?

She caught her acquaintance glancing over now and then. Whether he was confused or amused was up for debate, helmet hiding his intentions, but regardless she could feel eyes on her and the more she did the more frustrating it got, until she shot up to her feet and returned to the forest. There were other ways she could work on getting off of that island—like figuring out how to chop down trees without tools. Koala could fight. She could _really_ fight. And anyone who begged the contrary hadn't experienced her combat firsthand. But her fighting style relied more on skill than brute strength and so, unlike her captain, she couldn't just punch a tree trunk in half or tear it from the ground. She didn't have haki and her strength, while great, didn't fall into the realm of ridiculous. She tapped her chin, staring up at the reaching branches above, watching the leaves rustle in the breeze.

A thought emerged, one she tried to smother. But it was still there, still prevalent in her mind.

_They'll find me, won't they?_

* * *

She lost track of the days. At some point they all just blended together, and with her raft still stuck in the planning stages it didn't feel like she was getting anywhere. Well, she _wasn't_.

"Maybe if I swim out deep enough, the undertow will pull me back there…"

She heard a snort, one that hid behind it a laugh, and she turned to face Killer with a pout. He was fishing atop the rockbed a little further out—with a _proper_ fishing rod, backing her theory of that man _wanting_ to be there—while she laid atop the sands facing the sky, allowing the ocean waves to brush against her toes. It was refreshing amidst the island's heat.

"You don't believe that."

Koala eyed him before sighing and closing her eyes, returning to resting flat on her back. "You're right, I don't. But it's a nice thought. That I could just magically end up back there."

"Do you believe they would still be there?"

She groaned, sounding almost whiny as she covered her face with their hands. "Only if they capsized. I'm doubting that."

Killer reeled in his line to find nothing more than seaweed on the hook, staring at it in dead silence—Koala had found this silence to be as expressive as any face he could make, showcasing his disappointment and frustration with a strange clarity despite the helmet—before casting it back out for a second attempt. "Then?"

"I don't know," she groaned, pushing herself up until she was sitting just before the water, watching the sun dip into the horizon. "I just want to see them again. I wish they'd just… show up, like the always do. Just _find me_ and bring me aboard… I know it won't happen. But I'm wishing despite that. What about you, Mister Revolutionary Killer?"

"Hm?"

"What are you waiting for?"

She took his silence for what it was and didn't press, standing to her feet and hopping onto the rocks. Soon the rod was snatched away and she was seated beside Killer, reeling the line back in.

"You're not used to this, are you?" She grinned when he just stared her way. "Thought so. You need to swim your lure properly if you want it to catch something's attention. And we're in shallow waters, so you don't need to do a big, overhand cast. Underhand will be less likely to spook them."

Killer's attention switched between her hands and the line, watching in that way he always did. "I didn't peg you for a fisher."

"I like fish," she stated simply, and the curl of her lips betrayed her nostalgia. "I envy them, I guess. Their freedom."

* * *

"You don't look like a pirate," Killer stated, cupping his chin in his hand as he watched Koala's poor attempt at building the raft. He'd helped in cutting down trees, but actually assembling the raft was a task she hadn't expected to be so daunting. It wasn't hard to see that her 'assistant' was using her attempts as a source of entertainment.

"And you don't look like such a bad guy," she muttered, grunting as she rolled one of the logs next to another. The vines she found to tie them together… wouldn't hold. She knew that. She knew that and yet there she was, trying it anyway. She turned up to look him over, eyes narrowed. "...Actually, I take that back."

She heard the faintest of snorts but paid it little mind, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

"I can be." Well, a straight answer. That was a first. The only problem was that she hadn't asked a question. "I do what I think is right. On the surface that may make me the villain. I'm not bothered by that."

Koala tied the knot and let out a frustrated groan when the vine snapped as she did so. Even if Killer wasn't laughing, it felt like he was and she hated him for it. So, giving up for the moment, she sat on the log with her chin cupped in her hands and stared at him dully, withholding a pout. "You have a warped sense of right and wrong, Mister Revolutionary. Or at least your leader does." Ah, yes, Eustass Kidd. The leader of the Revolutionary Army. He was a man with many stories, all depicting cruel acts of violence and brutality. All that she heard made it feel odd that it was Killer who held the epithet of Massacre Soldier. She wondered just why he was called that. "And I suppose you'll follow him anywhere, right?"

Silence. Again. Oh how she hated that.

"I'm not trying to attack you," Koala continued, sitting up straight, tapping her foot into the sand. "I just… can't really grasp why your message and actions clash to such an extent."

Killer shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. Fortunately he didn't look bothered; the last thing she wanted was to pick a fight. "Eustass is a necessary evil. Maybe I am, as well."

"Why are you with the revolutionaries, hm?"

"Why are you a pirate?"

She blinked and then smiled, shaking her head. "I ask myself that very thing."

* * *

She stared down at her findings, drowning out the sounds of water dripping and swishing around the cove, and soon her hand came to grasp the wood of the small wooden boat to see if it was real. When nothing happened and she felt the woodgrain against her fingertips the breath hitched in her throat, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The boat was tied to a rock with a thick, sturdy rope—one she would have killed for when attempting her raft.

It had been simple restless sleep that found her wandering along the beaches exterior to the island, and piqued interest that had her explore the cove. Were it not for that she would have made her way back the way she came, back to camp. Oblivious.

She could take it.

But with clenched fists she turned around and headed back to camp, feeling just a smidge of regret. It wasn't like she hadn't expected Killer to have some way off the island; it was that she didn't know what she'd do if she found it.

The glow of the fire came into view first, and with it the silhouette of a tall blond. She pressed her lips together as she approached, distinctly recalling Killer being asleep in his tent before she wandered off. He sat relaxed, putting more kindle on the fire to spark more life into it.

"You never told me," she blurted out before she could stop herself, tensing.

"You never asked."

Koala let out a shuddering breath and lowered herself onto the sand. It had been seven days. But she couldn't really be upset or angry over something like that… because really, he was right. She hadn't asked. So what happened now that she knew?

"Look," she started, a hand running through her hair, "I'm not… going to ask why you're here. I won't question you about it, or bother you, or…"

"I'm sensing a condition."

"Take me with you?" She stared up at him with large eyes, hands clasped together. "Just to another island! Just—someplace with people, I just… need to get out of here. _I want to find my crew_."

_I miss them._

"No." Her stomach sank. "Not now. Wait for morning."

Koala's downcast eyes shot back up and she could feel amusement in the jerk's stance. That pause was intentional, and she was coming to find that this quiet, calm man was more teasing than he let on. But she didn't care. She just scrubbed at her eyes and nodded, not daring to say another word. Silence filled between them, and nothing could bring more comfort.

Morning couldn't come fast enough. Several hours spent at the campfire saw no sleep, the passing of each seeing the circles beneath her eyes a few shades darker as exhaustion grew. She never felt it, though; her mind was buzzing with too many thoughts, the anticipation of leaving the island finding her in a state of perpetual excitement. Perhaps more so than her leaving, the thought that her companion was willfully aiding her was a warm one. But that just had her mind drifting to him-to Killer. She'd wondered about just what he would be doing there, isolated as he was. When looking back at the newspaper article she'd read, though, it wasn't all that hard to make assumptions; he was hiding out, waiting for things to quiet. It was easily believable that other revolutionaries were doing the same, as after their last attack it seemed that the government was going on the offensive, sending out marines to hunt them down. Lying low until the hype died down was a good way to keep from getting attacked… though somehow she doubted their leader would subject himself to that. Killer had been mentioned as one of the core players in that last attack, though, so it made sense for him to disappear for a bit. He single-handedly picked apart a fleet of marines who'd answered the terrified calls of the civilians and come to help.

So maybe he wasn't a good guy. Maybe he was as violent and corrupt as the government he claimed to be so against.

Maybe she didn't know enough to say either way.

"Well?"

Koala blinked, jolted from her thoughts and suddenly it was morning. The sky was alive with fast-moving clouds, a brilliant blue reflected clearly in the water below. The boat floated before her, just beyond the shallows with Killer seated on one end amidst his supplies, and it took her a moment to register just what was going on. Ah, the cove… She wasn't sure when she'd wandered over there but she didn't question it, rubbing her tired eyes as she made her groggy approach. The chill of the water was like an electric shock as it hit the bottom of her foot and instantly she felt life breathed into her. Alertness returned, and as she climbed into the boat she felt it dip with her weight. The swaying started, slow and jerky as the waves pushed them along, and Koala watched her reflection as they began heading out. She'd glance up periodically, watching as the island shrank, progress slow but still there, and it didn't really sink in that this was real. It felt almost like a phantom dream, taunting her just out of reach, and for now she was just going with the motions. Maybe when they were out far enough it would feel real. Maybe when they reached land it would finally hit.

Land…

As nothing but the sounds of the ocean filled her ears she looked up at Killer, blinking. "Say…"

"Hm?"

She scratched at the wood of the boat with her nail absently, if only to keep her hands busy. "Where are we headed? Do you know, or are we just… wandering out at sea?"

Killer stared at her for a long while and the silence was enough to express how insulted he was that she assumed he would have set sail without a destination in mind. He began rifling through his things without answer, pulling a small paper from the outer pocket of his bag.

A vivre card.

Koala narrowed her eyes, trying to decypher the name on the card from the the little she could see of it. But the more she tried the more she realised that she was too tired to bother and the thought fell away. It didn't matter where they ended up, so long as she could get ahold of a den den when they got there. So she put it out of mind, twisting around to see that now the island where they met was no more than a distant memory.

"Hey," she called quietly, a small smile playing on her lips, "thanks. Really."

Killer didn't reply directly, a pause following as a strong breeze filled the sails and pushed them along the rolling waves faster than before. "Have you ever thought of a change in profession?"

She twisted back around, raising an amused eyebrow. "What, and join up with you lot? No, I'm happy where I am."

"Happy, or content?"

Her smile slid away as a nagging memory blared in her head, fighting its way to the surface of her thoughts, and soon her shoulders slumped with the ease of her decision, and she shook her head. "I'm not sure it matters."

"You would make a better revolutionary than a pirate," he stated casually, and she grinned.

"And you'd make a better pirate than revolutionary." She yawned and stretched, shifting in place as she tried to bring herself some comfort. "Hey," she called again, a little quieter as exhaustion began to surface, the excitement of the night before no longer enough to fend it away.

"Hm?"

"You're not terrible. Probably."

Killer stared a while before leaning forward, patting her head. "Sleep. We've got a long trip ahead of us."

She swatted his hand away with another yawn. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Less talking, more sailing."

"Demanding, for a passenger."

"Mhmm. Get used to it."

* * *

-oOo-

* * *

Sabo peeked into the cabin window, staring with worry at his navigator within as she buried herself in another book. The fact that they had been able to retrieve her was more than they ever thought possible, and when they got her call from one of the nearby islands they did what they could to find their way over to her. But her return brought with it an odd quiet. His usually very talkative and boisterous partner was less… well, less that.

He opened the door and when she didn't immediately turn to him, he knocked, rubbing the back of his neck as her eyes shot up to meet him. Soon Koala's shoulders slumped and she leaned back in her chair. "Oh," she breathed, "just you."

Sabo raised an eyebrow, taking that as invite enough to steal one of the chairs and take a seat across from her. "Just? Rather rude."

"Sorry, sorry," she laughed, but it sounded more tired than usual.

He pouted, turning the chair around to rest his arms on its back, his chin atop them. "What's up?"

"Hm?"

"You're not acting like yourself. What happened? Was it…"

Koala stared, at a loss for but a moment before rapidly shaking her head. "No, not that. The island wasn't all that bad… I had company. But then..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

She pressed her lips together, her eyes distant as she recalled something that Sabo didn't know, and closed her eyes with a deep inhale. "Eustass Kidd is a terrifying man."


End file.
